


Lone Moon

by marchingjaybird



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingjaybird/pseuds/marchingjaybird
Summary: They had been apart for years, Dimitri believing that Dedue was dead, Dedue hoping that Dimitri was alive.  It had been a difficult time, painful and strange.  Dedue had always been devoted to his prince, always would be, but for the first time since Dimitri had saved his life, he had found himself questioning Dimitri’s orders.***Dimitri and Dedue are finally reunited, and Dedue begins the long task of putting Dimitri back together.





	Lone Moon

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into Fire Emblem: Three Houses fandom! Here's some unexpectedly heavy porn with my very good, very sad boys, Dedue and Dimitri. Thanks as always to Brittany ([@lament4boromir](https://twitter.com/lament4boromir)) who very kindly read this over for me even though she doesn't go here, and to Nic ([@nicnarok](https://twitter.com/nicnarok)) for encouraging me to start writing and posting fanfic again. <3

Dimitri moves beneath him like the tide, rising to meet him, to twine eager arms around Dedue’s scarred shoulders and pull him close, then releasing him to fall back against the mattress, shoulders writhing as though the prince wishes to crawl out of his own skin. Dedue stares down at him, picking out familiar beloved features in a face that has grown heartbreakingly haggard and foreign over the past five years. The moonlight streaming through the windows leeches the gold from Dimitri’s hair so that sometimes it appears to gleam like steel and others it shines as white as Dedue’s own.

He had seen Dimitri skulking about the cathedral earlier that night, his massive robe huddled close around him, his remaining eye glaring wildly into the darkness. Dedue had been unable to sleep, his mind too full of the memory of Dimitri’s face, and the stricken expression on it when he had seen Dedue again for the first time. Had it been relief? Yes, but also something else, something that was not quite fear but which crept dangerously close to it. Had Dimitri thought him a ghost? From what Dedue had seen of him between then and now, that could not be ruled out.

“Your Highness,” he’d said, hoping not to startle Dimitri. The prince had whirled to face him, lips curling back from his teeth like a dog, and then the feral expression had melted away into one of profound weariness as he’d recognized Dedue.

“Please, don’t call me that,” he’d said, echoes of his past self surfacing like a ghost on his features and in his voice. Dedue had wanted to pull him close then and there, to crush Dimitri against his chest in an effort to draw all of that pain into his own body so that Dimitri would not have to suffer it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he’d replied automatically. The prince’s mouth had curled into something that wanted to be a smile and then he’d turned away, hiding his face behind a curtain of ragged hair.

“Go to sleep, Dedue,” he had ordered. “Leave me be.”

He spreads his legs now, gasping and whimpering as Dedue’s slick fingers find his tight hole and work their way in. His powerful hands feel weak against Dedue’s chest; they tremble and twitch, the fingers curling into claws as Dimitri throws his head back in pleasure. Dedue always wondered what he would look like on his back, face twisted up in desire, but he never imagined it like this.

“Hurry,” Dimitri sighs. Dedue can see the tight muscles in his stomach fluttering, can feel them under his fingertips as he slides a hand down to cover Dimitri’s swollen cock. There is precome smeared across his belly and the prince cries out, flinching away and then slowly, deliberately grinding his hips up against Dedue’s palm.

“Dimitri,” he whispers. It still feels strange to say his prince’s name. He’s thought it so many times, reflexively when he worries, deliberately when he takes his own cock in hand, once or twice out of pure spite when Dimitri did something that upset him. Those instances he had always strangled his thoughts, pushed them down; it wasn’t for him to be upset by what Dimitri decided, his job was to serve His Highness.

He feels that way still but his conviction wavers when he looks at Dimitri’s face. The darkness around his remaining eye, the thin bloodlessness of his lips, the tight stretch of skin over bone, they all speak of a man who has forgotten how to care for himself. He needs rest, food, comfort - all things that he will not provide for himself. Dedue can press the issue and likely prevail, especially with Byleth on his side, but is it his place? Where should he draw the line between taking care of Dimitri and obeying him without question?

He had started to leave when Dimitri dismissed him, habit taking over. His prince had ordered him to do something and he would do it, even if it went against everything his heart was telling him. But as he had walked away, his steps had slowed, his legs like lead as he stopped halfway across the bridge.

They had been apart for years, Dimitri believing that Dedue was dead, Dedue hoping that Dimitri was alive. It had been a difficult time, painful and strange. Dedue had always been devoted to his prince, always would be, but for the first time since Dimitri had saved his life, he had found himself questioning Dimitri’s orders. They belonged together, didn’t they? 

Dedue had turned around, taken in the troubled silhouette of his prince, his _friend_, and he had disobeyed.

Dimitri shudders now under his hands, torn between grinding up against Dedue’s rough palm and pushing back against the slick fingers that still trace his hole, endlessly dancing around an action that will forever alter the dynamic between them. This is something that Dedue has wanted for so long, dreamed about even, Dimitri beneath him, crying out, opening up for his fingers. He presses the tip of one in and the shuddering moan that bursts from Dimitri’s lips very nearly undoes him entirely.

Dedue leans forward, taking his hand away from Dimitri’s aching cock, pushing a single finger into the tight heat of his beloved prince’s body. Dimitri gives a strangled shout, strong arms circling Dedue’s broad shoulders, tugging him down until their chests are pressed together. He babbles nonsense, pleading and begging for something that Dedue isn’t certain he can give, and Dedue closes his eyes and works his finger in and out, in and out, so slow that he thinks they might both explode.

“Please,” Dimitri gasps, need and desperation turning the word ragged. Lust crashes through Dedue and he shudders, pressing down harder against Dimitri, pushing him into the mattress. Their lips meet, hot and wet and clumsy, and Dedue feels as though he could suck the air out of Dimitri’s lungs.

A second finger joins the first and Dimitri throws his head back, baring his throat. The moonlight bleaches his skin a pallid white and Dedue has to close his eyes. It’s too much like making love to a ghost; Dimitri is desperate for his touch, eager for sensation, but removed from it still. His gaze is always roving, never settling on Dedue’s face for longer than a moment, and every part of him feels somehow insubstantial.

Dedue withdraws his fingers, reaching down to free his own cock. His fingers are slick and warm and he shudders at even this small amount of sensation. How long has it been since he took himself in hand, the image of his prince held firm in his mind? There has been so much to do, so many leads to follow and rumors to investigate. Pleasure, even fleeting, has been so far removed from him for so long that he has almost forgotten what it feels like.

“Yes,” Dimitri whines, ragged nails digging into the back of Dedue’s neck. His eye is wild, gleaming argent in the moonlight as it meets Dedue’s gaze and then skips away again. There is desperation in his voice, in the way his hips roll up, the way his legs circle Dedue’s waist, trying so hard to pull him in close. Does he truly want Dedue so much? Or is it merely that he’s starved for any sort of human contact and Dedue is the first person he’s trusted enough to get close?

He had certainly not seemed to want it when Dedue had gone back to him earlier that night. Rage had twisted his features, rage and something like fear. Dedue had not spoken to him, had merely sat down on a large piece of rubble to wait. If Dimitri needed to be out here, sleepless and haunted, then Dedue would keep him company. His resolve had hardened as he sat there, watching Dimitri pace, listening to him murmur under his breath. He would never leave Dimitri’s side again, not until death itself came to claim him.

How long had the pacing lasted? Minutes? Hours? Long enough at least for the waning moon to climb high in the sky and hang there, swollen and strange. It had been full only a handful of nights before and already Dedue could see where darkness was taking bites out of its cold brilliance. It had reminded him of Dimitri in a way, light slowly consumed by darkness, but where the moon’s capitulation was cyclical, he was not so certain that Dimitri could be reborn from his own descent into shadow.

His cock presses against Dimitri’s tight entrance and he hesitates, aware that this is something that he can never take back. To stop now would be humiliating, but he can take Dimitri in his mouth, finish him that way, and then he will never have to beat down this final wall and admit once and for all that he has always desired Dimitri like this, spread wide beneath him, begging to be filled.

“Please,” Dimitri breathes. There are tears leaking from his good eye, catching the moonlight as they slip down his face like quicksilver. He pushes his hips up, the breath hitching in his throat, and Dedue has to look away. It’s too much, Dimitri has changed too much. There is madness in him now, born of the horrible pain he has suffered, and Dedue can see it in every new line on his prince’s beloved face.

“Shhh,” he soothes, leaning down to kiss away the tears, his cock achingly hard as it rubs between Dimitri’s legs. “Relax…” His doubts and troubles are academic. Years ago he swore to do whatever Dimitri asked of him, and it is clear that were Dimitri in any way coherent right now, he would be begging for Dedue to fill him.

Dedue is glad to be absolved of responsibility in this, because he knows he has gone too far to stop. He reaches down again, holding his cock steady as he buries the head inside Dimitri with one swift, short thrust. Dimitri cries out pitifully, wrapping his arms and legs around Dedue, trying to pull him the rest of the way in all at once. He was always exceptionally strong, and these past five years have forged steel into his muscles, but Dedue does not budge an inch, holding himself perfectly still until Dimitri snarls in frustration and falls back onto the mattress.

Only then does he press forward, slowly easing his cock into Dimitri’s tight hole. His eyes flutter shut as he feels his prince’s body envelope him, holding him close, and he sinks deeper and deeper, piercing Dimitri further with every slight movement of his hips. Dimitri sobs with every thrust, eagerly arching to receive Dedue’s thick cock, and after what feels like both a moment and an eternity they are pressed flush against each other, breathing hard, and Dimitri reaches up to brush his fingertips across Dedue’s cheek.

He was not so tender those scant few hours ago when Dedue had returned to his side to sit, unmoving and unquestioning as Dimitri had slowly exhausted himself. Eventually, Dimitri’s pacing had slowed and then stopped just in front of Dedue. They had locked gazes, Dimitri’s single blue eye blazing like cold fire, Dedue careful to hold himself as still and expressionless as possible. Dimitri had laughed, given his head a shake, and perched on the rubble near Dedue.

“I suppose I am very different from what you hoped,” Dimitri said, and there was such a mingling of accusatory venom and desperate desire for reassurance in his voice that Dedue’s heart broke a little.

“I hoped only to find you alive,” Dedue had answered, a half truth that Dimitri saw through immediately.

“I would be better off dead.” Dimitri’s voice was cold and distant. There was nothing for Dedue to say to that and so he said nothing. They sat there, Dimitri brooding like a gargoyle, Dedue as impassive as the stone wall it sat on, until Dimitri abruptly stood, gesturing sharply.

“Come, walk me to my rooms,” he ordered, and Dedue had followed like an obedient dog.

He does not obey Dimitri now, he dares not; there is a wild look in his eye, a dangerous one, as he claws at Dedue, hissing at him to move faster. It is hard to resist the urge to shove Dimitri’s knees up against his ears and slam into him the way he wants to, the way he has always wanted to, but Dedue wants this to be different, wants this first time at least to feel special. They gasp and moan, hands grasping, nails skipping across skin, and then Dedue gets one of Dimitri’s legs hooked over his shoulder and he pushes in deep and Dimitri keens in pleasure.

Soon they’re moving in unison, back and forth, their breath hot between them. Dedue’s forehead is pressed against Dimitri’s, sweat slick and feverish, and every thrust into his prince’s impossibly tight ass drags him a little closer to the edge. Dimitri sobs beneath him, tears running freely from his single wide open eye, his face twisted in dumb ecstasy.

The bed begins to creak and groan, Dedue moving faster and faster until his hips are snapping against Dimitri and the room is full of the sound of their rapid breathing and the slap of skin on skin. Sweat drips from Dedue’s forehead and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tighten as he pushes his cock in deeper and harder with every thrust.

It’s hard to believe that they’d stood at the foot of this bed not long ago. He had walked Dimitri back to his room, had waited in the doorway to be dismissed. Instead, Dimitri had beckoned to him, the brightness of his ice blue eye making it perfectly clear what he wanted. Dedue had obeyed because it was what he did, how he lived.

He had protested quietly when Dimitri had first laid his hands on Dedue’s broad chest, thumbs moving in questing circles. “Your Highness,” he’d murmured, but Dimitri had shushed him with a soft kiss, his dry lips featherlight against the scar that cut across the corner of Dedue’s mouth.

“Call me Dimitri,” he’d begged, and Dedue had shuddered. Dimitri had been begging Dedue to call him by name for years, but there had been a special note of desperation in his voice that time, a need for comfort that Dedue had not been able to turn away from.

Dimitri arches against him, straining, his ragged nails slicing furrows in Dedue’s shoulders. A scream builds in his throat, growing louder and louder until it abruptly ends in a strangled shout and his entire body tenses. Dedue swears softly and thrusts in hard, his own pleasure secondary to Dimitri’s. He watches his prince shudder beneath him, come splattering his belly and chest.

“Finish,” Dimitri gasps, his voice tattered and worn.

“I don’t need to,” Dedue says, and then Dimitri’s hand is on the back of his neck, pulling him in close.

“I need you to,” Dimitri whispers, frantic still, and Dedue thinks he understands. Dimitri needs something to tie them together, something to make this all real. He’s been alone for so long, drifting with no connections. Dedue cups his face and pushes him down and slowly, slowly begins to move his hips again.

Dimitri squirms, his breath coming in great shuddering gasps as Dedue fucks into his over-sensitive body. He’s so tight, so desperately warm, and as Dedue picks up speed, his hips rolling forward now instead of slamming, a wash of shivery ecstasy tiptoes up his spine, spreading its molten fingers throughout his body until every part of him is incandescent with pure pleasure.

He comes with a soft growl, burying himself inside Dimitri, closing his eyes against the onslaught of emotion that accompanies the starburst of ecstasy that explodes in his belly. Dimitri takes his come eagerly, spreading his legs wide, his eye fixed avidly on Dedue’s face as he pours what feels like his very soul into Dimitri’s beloved body. It is everything he ever hoped it would be and it is over before he knows it, pleasure fading into warm exhaustion, and he eases off of Dimitri and rolls to the side.

Dimitri is on him immediately, head tucked against Dedue’s shoulder, arm thrown tight around his waist. They don’t speak but Dedue knows that they both felt that, heard it in the shout that burst from his mouth, desperate and hoarse. He is in love with Dimitri and he has been for years, deeply and irrevocably, and there is no hope of hiding it anymore.

“Stay here,” Dimitri says, before Dedue can attempt to extricate himself. Dedue tenses for a moment, then breathes out long and slow and nods.

“I will stay,” he agrees, and Dimitri shudders against him. He sits up for a moment, using a scrap of fabric to wipe them both clean, and Dedue watches him. He isn’t so foolish as to think that he can cure Dimitri’s madness, but the prince does look more serene now, as though their coupling has started to heal something deep inside him. He speaks as he wipes them clean, and his voice is detached, strange.

“You know I hear them speaking to me,” he says, pausing for a moment so that Dedue can nod. “My parents. Glenn. All of the people that I have failed to save, demanding revenge, demanding _justice_.” Madness blazes on his face for a moment, and then he gives a shuddery laugh and tosses the rag aside. Dedue watches where it falls so that he can clean it up in the morning.

“I heard you too,” he continues and Dedue tenses, Dimitri’s words like an arrow to the gut. “I saw you standing with them, another death on my account, another ghost to hound me.” His fingers skip across the flat plane of Dedue’s stomach as though for reassurance. “But here you are, Dedue, alive and in my bed.” He smiles at nothing, the expression strangely wistful on the hard lines of his face. “Just where I always wanted you.”

“Your Highness,” Dedue says, starting to sit up. He corrects himself quickly and Dimitri laughs. “Dimitri. I…” And he trails off, uncertain of what words could possibly bring comfort to a man so broken.

“You don’t know what to say,” he whispers. “It’s all right, Dedue. There is nothing to say.” His hand spasms, curling into a claw, nails digging into Dedue’s belly. He doesn’t finish his line of thought, but Dedue understands it perfectly well. If Dimitri saw Dedue’s ghost demanding vengeance but Dedue is alive, then what was he seeing? The specters that haunt him cannot be real and so there is only one conclusion to draw.

Madness.

“You have witnessed terrible things,” Dedue says. “Lost people close to you. You feel guilt because you survived and they did not. Believe me, I know that feeling.” Dimitri’s eye wells with tears. They drip from his chin to splash against Dedue’s chest. “Guilt and sorrow change a man.”

“You’re right,” he whispers, and Dedue can see that Dimitri does not believe him. He doesn’t have to. There is time still to pull him back from the edge, and now that Dedue is back he does not ever intend to leave Dimitri’s side again.

“Get some sleep,” Dedue says, stroking Dimitri’s arm. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he murmurs as he settles back down, hand resting on Dedue’s chest now. Dedue covers it with his own, holding Dimitri’s long fingers against his heart. “Goodnight, Dedue.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” he says. Dimitri laughs softly, for a moment sounding like his old self. Sorrow crawls up into Dedue’s throat, heavy and tight, but he swallows against it and closes his eyes.

Ever vigilant, he doesn’t let himself drift off until he hears Dimitri’s breathing grow deep and even. Only then does he sink into the formless blackness of sleep, and for the first time since Dimitri vanished, he is not accompanied by nightmares.


End file.
